Solace
by devotedtodreams
Summary: Another village has burned down. Ivan is suffering greatly from the drought and the distress of his people. While they try to comfort each other, he finally doesn't have to deal with everything on his own anymore. Oneshot about the 2010 Russian wildfires.


I know this is very late, but my muse has been extremely difficult... not only as of recently, but for quite a while now. Ah well, at least I finally managed to finish another story. I want to thank all of my friends for being so supportive and encouraging me to not stop writing, even though at one point I certainly felt like that. You guys are the best! :)

Now, without further ado, I hope you'll like my story about the Russian wildfires!

* * *

The cool morning air whipped through his hair as the jeep sped down the M7. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that the knuckles had all but turned white, and the trademark grin had long since run away from his face, which had turned into a mask of worry and impatience. The needle of the speedometer had remained on the far right side for as long as the journey down the highway had lasted.

It was 5 a.m. in the Nizhny Novgorod oblast. The sun's rays had crept over the horizon to reveal grounds that had fallen prey to the wildfires that were raging in Russia. Shriveled, dead vegetation that littered the scorched earth… A small part within him that seemed to be bent on being an eternal wisecracker went as far as thinking about light sprinkles on one of Arthur's infamous scones, but Alfred was unable to manage a smile. Not even the ghost of one. A shroud of mist obscured everything in the distance – not only a simple early-morning haze, but instead a mixture of that and smoke that had risen from the burnt land. The fires here seemed to have been stopped, at least for now. Elsewhere, they were still blazing away.

Of the three hints he had gotten from President Medvedev himself, there was only one more left. He simply _had_ to make a find there, otherwise… where else would he? The number he had been dialing umpteen times for the past few days had remained out of service, eventually driving him to drop everything and cross the Atlantic in a grueling nine and a half hour flight, followed by a frustrating delay in Moscow.

It had been surreal to see the Russian capital engulfed in a thick blanket of smog as people had walked the streets wearing breathing masks or covering their mouths with handkerchiefs. There had been talk about costs for fans and air conditioners that had increased fivefold, and about how people who couldn't afford those luxuries were forced to either suffer from unbearable heat behind closed windows or stinging eyes upon opening them. The death rate of the city had increased dramatically. But at least they still had roofs over their heads – in the disaster zones of the countryside, it was far worse.

At a hint from his passenger, he took the next exit. It could only be a matter of fifteen or twenty minutes, give or take, until they would reach the village. The closer they got, the more intensely Alfred hoped beyond hope.

'_Please, God, __**please**__ let him be there! But most importantly: let him be okay…!'_

He had tried chastising himself for thinking any differently, however briefly, but then again, the fact that none of his calls had gotten through for three days straight (not even on the landline) had unsettled him. And not even Medvedev had been able to supply him with anything close to satisfying answers to the two main questions he desperately sought answers for.

"_He has been on the move practically ever since the fires broke out. In that light, also considering that it has been two days since even we last heard from him, we can only speculate about his current whereabouts and condition…"_

Those words replayed themselves over and over again in Alfred's mind as he slowed down the jeep. The village was starting to appear out of the haze ahead, and the air was already thick enough without him dropping in while putting a ton of dust in the air. The other two places he had visited had certainly looked rather wrecked, but in this new place, the destruction was even greater. The sight made him remember cities that had suffered severe bombing damage during the Second World War, especially where few (if any) houses had survived, even if only as ruins…

The jeep came to a halt next to a burnt-out car that looked as if it had gotten abandoned years ago. Preciously few walls were still standing, though they too looked like old ruins with their crumbled plaster that revealed the plain bricks beneath. In some places, nothing else but the scaffold indicated that buildings had been standing there mere hours ago. The ground was littered with the remains of such unfortunate houses. The inhabitants of the village were still in shock. Some were combing through the pitiful remains of their homes, perhaps searching in vain for any possessions that might have not have fallen prey to the flames, while others had gathered in groups, trying to offer each other comfort after the loss of their houses, which for some of them had been nothing less than the means of existence.

As Alfred wandered through the village, he did notice that some people stared at him, but no one spoke to him. And he couldn't blame them: what good was the random appearance of a foreigner in their recently demolished village? Probably the only way in which he could come in handy for them would be if he could construct a new house right there and then with a snap of his fingers… but despite the immense strength he had, even when he had been just a little boy, he was not a miracle worker. He would have loved to assume that role, but he couldn't. Besides, before he hadn't found what he was looking for…

He didn't bother to finish that thought, for finally, after he had actually reached the other end of the village, his search had come to an end, for there he sat, on what little was left of a house wall, hiding his face from the world with one of his large hands. Even from afar, Alfred could easily tell that Ivan looked the worse for wear: the Russian's posture had slumped, his broad shoulders rising and falling with every labored breath. His hair, so fair that it appeared almost silver, looked like it was in dire need of both a washing and a decent combing. The long brown coat Alfred was so used to seeing him wear had long since been discarded and now lay nearly forgotten next to its owner; instead, Ivan was wearing a black, sleeveless shirt. Judging by the way it clung to his body, accentuating even the smallest muscle, he was sweating heavily. His scarf was not wrapped as tightly around his neck as usual (though still covering the scars he had gotten as a result of the battle of Stalingrad), and dark spots of soot and ashes had soiled the light pink color of the beloved garment.

"Ivan…"

For a split second, he wondered why the other didn't react in any way, but then he realized he had said it so quietly that he may as well have been talking to himself. That most certainly could not have been heard.

"Ivan!" he repeated, louder this time, then began to hurry towards him.

The other superpower looked up as he heard his name being called, and his eyes widened as he saw who was approaching him, like a phantasm straight out of a dream, his soles making a crunching noise with every step he took across the site of destruction. Amidst the turmoil of both his thoughts and feelings, he couldn't even decide if this was real or not before Alfred had already reached him, and as he was joined on the crumbling wall when the American sat down next to him…

A deep breath, followed by a sigh. "Hey, big guy. Man, am I glad to have found you."

…the world around them ceased to exist for a moment. All he saw was brilliant blue _(prettier than any cloudless summer sky)_ and the now dull blondness of hair that had lost its sleekness over the course of the journey _(yet he would have loved to run his fingers through those strands)_. His right hand twitched as if to reach out and touch him, to make sure that this was indeed real – and if it wasn't, he wanted to indulge himself in this dream for just a few moments, a few moments of bliss.

"A-Alfred…"

That single word escaped his lips in a hoarse whisper, one his voice hadn't acquired for pretty much two decades now. It didn't help that his throat felt dry as a bone.

The wisp of happiness that had dawned on Alfred's face upon finding Ivan was chased away at the sound of the other man's voice. Sympathy took its place as he now got a better look at what shape the ex-communist was in: the round face was just as dirty as the rest of him, though there appeared to be streaks among the films of ashes and soot; whether they had been made by tears or sweat, Alfred couldn't tell. Not even the ghost of a smile was dancing on those thin, pale lips. The dark rings beneath his eyes suggested that he hadn't slept in days, and the eyes themselves – usually a lovely shade of violet – now looked nearly dark purple as they had darkened due to his exhaustion and the sorrow he shared with his people.

The sight made Alfred shift uncomfortably. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, but I… uh, had some issues going on too –"

"Yet you came," Ivan interrupted softly.

Clearly not having expected this interruption, Alfred was silent for a moment, eyes slightly widened, then smiled wryly.

"Well… yeah."

Ivan nodded. "Da, therefore there is nothing you need to apologize for." His voice dropped to little more than a whisper, and the expression in his eyes became more intense. "You have no idea how much this means to me…"

Alfred knew both that tone of voice and that particular expression in someone's eyes: they were signs that one was in need of somebody. Somebody who didn't _have_ to be a hero, but merely somebody who was willing to offer them support and comfort. To hold them in their hour of need. And Alfred – being Alfred– was more than willing to be the shoulder to lean on.

He held his arms out to Ivan and smiled invitingly. "C'mere, buddy…"

At first, Ivan hesitated, mainly because he was not used to people willingly offering him hugs; however, as he accepted the offer, he all but flung himself into Alfred's open arms, clinging to him as tightly as his remaining strength allowed him to and buried his face into the furry collar of the bomber jacket. He felt a tidal wave of emotions wanting to break free, but through a (for his state) tremendous effort managed to withhold it just yet – for as glad as he was to see Alfred, he regretted to be so _filthy_ and such a _wreck_ when they met again. The strain made him dig his fingers into the younger nation's shoulder blades.

Alfred didn't even flinch. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Ivan and hugged him as closely as possible without making the embrace too tight. He bowed his head and began to whisper sweet nothings into the taller man's ear, hoping that they would provide at least a scrap of comfort. Somewhere along the way, one of his hands traveled upwards and softly stroked the dirtied, fair hair, not caring about how filthy they were; while Ivan silently fretted about such details, Alfred deemed them entirely irrelevant, as all that mattered for him was that he had found Ivan, and while the latter certainly looked a mess, it didn't quite compare to even worse conditions that his mind had supplied him with plentifully.

Meanwhile, Ivan reveled in the sound of Alfred's voice. After days of hearing nothing else but shouts, screams and cries of anguish, it was music to his ears. A wave of happiness surged through him with such intensity, clashing violently with his suffering, that it brought tears to his eyes, and before he could actually consider holding them back, they spilled down his cheeks, some splashing onto the collar of Alfred's jacket, and others trickling down the American's neck. He wept for all the things that were going wrong at that point in time, though some of those issues had been lasting for weeks or even years.

_The drought, a result of heat he was anything but accustomed to. The deaths of people who had tried in vain to save their homes, with little or no help at all. The surviving victims' outcries, demanding to know why nobody had helped them, thus condemning them to be left with nothing. And amidst all that, rearing its ugly head time and time again, the nagging sentiment of having failed his people._

All the while, Alfred never quite relinquished his hold on him, not even when Ivan somehow managed to deprive him of oxygen for several moments with strength he seemed to regain from his outburst. There had never been any doubt in his mind that coming here was the right thing to do, but even so, now that he _was_ here, he was all the more glad that he had come, because apparently no one else had. He could only imagine how that must make Ivan feel; Ivan, who – despite his occasional repeating of the infamous "become one with me" phrase – just wanted to be friends with everyone…

As if he had sensed the other's thoughts, Ivan fought to calm down again and said in a tearful voice: "You will tell me if there is a way I can repay you for coming, da? Part of me still thinks this is just a dream, a dream I would rather not wake from…"

Alfred chuckled and held him tightly again as he answered: "Don't sweat it; I came on my own free will, after all – my only regret is that I didn't come sooner. And speaking of dreams: I think you could do well with catching some Zs right about now."

Truth to be told, Ivan would have loved to do that, and he had closed his eyes while listening to Alfred's voice, also enjoying the feeling of the latter's warm breath on his ear (it felt a million times more pleasant than the relentless waves of heat he seemed to be bathing in as the wildfires ravaged the forests and farmland where important crops were grown), but now he tried to break free of the embrace, shaking his head in protest.

"Нет… I cannot sleep whilst knowing that my people are already in very dire need of assistance."

"But look at you! I mean, no offense, but you look terrible. If those rings beneath your eyes don't say that you're in need of some shut-eye, I don't know what does." He grasped Ivan's shaking hands, covering them with his own, and said firmly while looking him straight in the eye: "I understand that you want to help your people in every way possible, but it would be better to regain some of your strength first. Just rest for a while; I'll be here, and I'll even handle some stuff in the meantime if it'd make you feel better. Whaddaya say?"

A hopeful spark appeared in Ivan's eyes, only to vanish again after a fleeting moment. "You have affairs of your own… I could not possibly ask you to stay," he said quietly. _'Even though I really want to,'_ he added in his thoughts.

"It's nothing they can't handle without me for a while," Alfred replied with a wink and pulled out his cell phone from a pocket. "Watch." A soft "Yes!" escaped his lips when he saw that the phone's reception was not interfering with his plans, and he quickly dialed a number.

Ivan watched with something akin to amazement and perhaps a twinge of envy as Alfred proceeded to speak to his boss in a casual manner, quite the opposite of his own conversations with his superior. Sure, even for Alfred there were times when he had to be careful about his choice of words, but when he _would _happen to either slip up or not hold back on unpleasant information, Ivan supposed that worlds separated them in terms of how their respective authorities reacted to such an occurrence…

Ah, but why was he thinking about that now? It was of no importance, after all. All that mattered was whether Alfred truly would stay with him –

"…yes, but this is something I need to take care of first, all political jazz and stuff aside." Ivan's thoughts returned to the matter at hand, and he refocused on what was being said just in time for them to lock eyes before Alfred said with a small yet winning smile: "It's something very personal."

It was in that moment that Ivan realized that while he gladly would have settled for pretty much any company, Alfred's company was the best. The blond was always willing to provide either a fiery motivational speech or simple words of encouragement, ready to go through fire and water for all his friends and those who were dear to him, all the while with a bright spark of determination in his eyes. When their eyes had met before, he had been assured that all that support was for him now; him, and nobody else. And he hadn't even _asked_ Alfred to come or anything! It made his heart nearly ache with gratitude.

With an "Awesome, thanks a lot!", Alfred ended the call, tucked his cell phone away again and informed Ivan with a rapt smile: "There, got everything settled. I'm all yours now."

"I wish I could offer you something more than a mere thank-you," Ivan sighed, smiling weakly.

"You can." Alfred stood up and offered him his hand. "You could lie down for a while before exhaustion gets the better of you."

Ivan didn't respond immediately, instead staring at the blackened ground at his feet while he debated with himself. Part of him wanted to take that advice on the spot while the other part wanted to refuse… but if he did that, Alfred would most likely remain stubborn and bring it up again and again until he caved in. Then again, Alfred just meant well, and if this meant so much to him…

"Alright, but I wish to remain on the move, for the fires will not stop and wait while I rest," he spoke as he finally seized the proffered hand, which effortlessly helped him get back on his feet.

"'Course they won't, but if that is what you wish, that's what we'll do as well – you just say where we should be off to next, and it'll be done. Big promise," Alfred told him as he grabbed the abandoned coat, then put a hand on his shoulder as he began to lead him back to the jeep. Ivan merely hummed softly in acknowledgment.

The walk through the village seemed to last half an eternity, and it was very heavy on Ivan's heart. He remembered what the village had looked like before it had gotten consumed by the flames he had failed to extinguish in time. He had tried his best, had even strained to go beyond that, but the fires had the wind on their side as well as the dryness of the land. And their limited firefighting equipment could only achieve so much… Some of the surviving villagers turned to watch them as they walked on by. In every pair of eyes, the same emotions were reflected: despair, frustration, sorrow, the longing for answers to their questions. While the names of the villages he had been to so far had changed, the behavior of their inhabitants hadn't, and it only got harder to bear with every new day that passed without an improvement of the situation. Ivan's spirits began to sink again, and his pace slowed down in time with them – but he never stopped, for the hand on his shoulder left its place only to come to rest on the small of his back a moment later, gently reminding him to move on, and Alfred's voice sounded out very close to his ear again in an encouraging, soothing whisper. It was like a beacon of light that had come forth from darkness.

Not far from the jeep, several people had clustered around three dirtied white sheets that covered the bodies of the night's fire victims. Ivan had already spoken with them prior to Alfred's arrival, but he knew he wouldn't be able to leave without offering his condolences to them once more. When he informed Alfred about his intentions, it only took very few words to convince the American to stand by for a moment; this surprised him somewhat, given how insistent Alfred had been about him getting some rest, and he was most relieved that he didn't have to bother with unnecessary elaborations.

The discussion was none too long and certainly not without tears on the part of the bereaved, but with every new second that passed by, Ivan's heart felt heavier and heavier in the light of their profound grief that he had been unable to spare them of. However, they did not blame him in any way – instead, they thanked him for all his efforts. The women insisted on hugging him, and the men shook his hand. Perhaps it was because he hadn't been expecting this at all, or because his exhaustion really was getting the better of him, but their final words and goodbyes in particular felt like strangely surreal tokens of appreciation to him. It was all feeling like a dream again, and when he finally turned away from them, he felt as if his heart were about to fall right out of his chest again.

Alfred had watched the scene from a respectful distance (and looked anything but unaffected by it), but on his way of overcoming that distance, Ivan stumbled, and although he managed to regain his balance again, his heart actually did fall out of his chest. A little cloud of dust and ashes got whirled up as it fell to the ground, coating the vital organ as it settled down again. The tall Russian sighed wearily and was about to bend down and pick it up when someone else beat him to it.

"Don't worry, I've got it. Don't you go falling apart on me now, buddy," Alfred remarked and swiftly wrapped the heart in the long coat he was still holding as he put his other arm around Ivan, continuing to guide him to the jeep.

"My apologies," Ivan muttered, "But you needn't trouble yourself with hiding it in my coat. You could simply give it back instead."

"Like this? No way, it's all dirty and stuff! Let me clean it for you first."

"You are putting yourself through too many troubles for me, Alfred."

"Nonsense, this isn't a trouble, it's a _favor_. I'm doing this because I care about you," came the immediate response as the door to the back seat of the jeep was opened, "C'mon, hop in."

Ivan did as he was told – except for the whole "hopping" bit – and was right away joined by Alfred. In the driver's seat, a young Russian who had helped Alfred find the village to begin with turned around to look at them inquisitively.

"Thanks for waiting, man!" Alfred rooted around in his own coat and fished out a bundle of rubles. As he passed them forward, he added: "Hey, could we count on your services for a little longer? I'll throw in a major tip…"

The young man seemed to consider this for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

"Great!" Alfred leaned back and nudged Ivan. "Now we just need directions from you, and we're off."

"Ah, da." He pointed in a direction and exchanged a few words with his compatriot, who fired the jeep up and drove off – at a much more reasonable speed than Alfred, though. Meanwhile, the latter had begun to busy himself with Ivan's heart. The older man shivered as Alfred's fingertips lightly stroked the heart with utmost care; it was not an unpleasant feeling, but merely an unfamiliar one.

The shiver didn't go unnoticed by blue eyes, which glanced over at him.

"You _are_ gonna go to sleep now, huh, big guy? You said you would…"

"I-I shall. It's just…" Feeling the sensation of Alfred's touch anew made him trail off.

"Oh, is it because of this? I'll stop if you want me to."

Ivan shook his head. "I do not mind it. What I meant is that it is a feeling unlike anything I have ever experienced."

Finally, after long last, he closed his eyes, and just a moment later, he felt how Alfred gently helped him settle down and bed his head on something… soft. He was too tired to open his eyes again and actually look at his makeshift pillow, but it felt very much like the fur collar of the younger nation's bomber jacket. A deep, content sigh escaped his lips as he allowed himself to relax.

"Alfred?" he whispered.

"Yeah?" a voice asked back, somewhere from above.

He was already well on his way to dreamland, but he was fairly sure that he wasn't just imagining Alfred running his fingers through his grimy hair. "Please treat my heart with care. You can return it later… when I am awake again."

"I will. Sleep well, Ivan."

His heart continued to get caressed as Alfred carefully wiped away the filth that was covering it. A small smile played on Ivan's lips as he focused on that feeling as long as he still could. Such a pleasant feeling… to him, it felt like downright, genuine affection. Hopefully he would experience this again… sooner than later would be lovely…

A mere moment or two later, he had drifted off to sleep, but just before that happened, he believed to have felt a soft, warm touch on his forehead… something like a kiss…

* * *

Whew... I sure hope this was up to scratch, given that it took me several tries until I was satisfied with the beginning. The middle part looks kinda weird, but oh well.

Music used for inspiration: the soundtrack of "Downfall", among other things.

I read lots of articles (both in the newspaper and online) as I worked on this, so I hope there won't be too many inaccuracies. And I had originally intended to explain a couple of things here, but I won't because nobody likes long author's notes, and LJ is a better place for that instead of this site, ne? But if you have any questions, feel free to ask in a review!

Please let me know what you think, I'd be very grateful for some feedback! :)

P.S: I feel kinda stupid to ask this, but... would you consider this closer to a really deep friendship, or romance instead? I mean, usually, when I write romance, I emphasize it a lot more than the... uh, hints (?) in this one. So yeah... kinda unsure here...


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